


Firewhisky

by MarshmallowMcGonagall



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Based on a Tumblr Post, Drunk Professors, Firewhisky, Gen, Hijinks & Shenanigans, hangovers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-18
Updated: 2020-03-18
Packaged: 2021-02-28 23:33:48
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,185
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23195572
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MarshmallowMcGonagall/pseuds/MarshmallowMcGonagall
Summary: Severus gets drunk and drags Minerva into his adventures with Firewhisky. Then there is the small matter of what happened in 1989.
Relationships: Minerva McGonagall & Severus Snape
Comments: 2
Kudos: 49





	Firewhisky

**Author's Note:**

> A ficlet based on a Tumblr post, I'm putting it here for ease of finding it again. The original Tumblr post and artwork are [here](https://marshmallowmcgonagall.tumblr.com/post/190954544798/marshmallowmcgonagall-marshmallowmcgonagall), and are well worth checking out as they're thoroughly charming.

“You - you’re my best - my best - my best friend,” slurred Snape.

“Yes dear,” said McGonagall. He had his arm slung around her shoulders and was leaning heavily on her. Her mouth twisted in an increasingly difficult attempt to keep from swearing when he stumbled and slammed her into a wall. “Severus!”

“It’s - it’s Poppy’s Firewhisky,” he said, with a sneer which fell face first into a snort. “Not good - not the good stuff - bad drink drunk drank - bad drinky drinking.”

“Bad all round,” muttered McGonagall. With a huff, she put all her weight into pushing him upright only to lose her grip on him. He swayed and slammed back against the wall on the other side of the corridor. He chuckled in the way that only a drunk Slytherin could. She rolled her shoulders and took his hand, pulling his arm over her shoulders. “That’s enough for tonight, I think.”

“Idea,” he said, “got an idea.”

“Severus Snape, so help me,” she said, sharply. “If this involves more Firewhisky - “

“We could raid Pomona’s stash,” he said, grinning. There was a glint in his eye, the one which suggested he was still clinging onto enough sobriety to know that this was a plan which could work. “I know where she hides the vintage Ogden’s.”

McGonagall all but hissed. “She said there was none left.”

Snape’s laugh echoed down the corridor. “Whole - whole case left.” He poked her shoulder. “I - I used my - my powers of per-persuasion at Yule.” He nodded. “It’s better - better than you could ever - ever imagine.”

McGonagall looked up and down the corridor. “If you are wrong about this Severus - ”

“Would I - would I lie about Firewhisky?”

“Yule 1989,” she all but cried.

“Let - let me make it up to you,” he said, smiling. The soft haze of nostalgia crept up around them and her pursed lips gave way to a smile.

“Fine then,” she said. “Lead the way.”

The knock on the door was sharp, quick, and threatened to split McGonagall’s head further. She opened the door, the creaking handle and protesting hinges sending her hand to clutch her forehead. 

“Good morning,” drawled Snape. He stood with arms crossed and a smirk which he didn’t attempt to rein in. “How’s the head?”

McGonagall prided herself on how she managed stressful situations. She was deputy headmistress of Hogwarts. She could hold her own in any duel. The expletives which exploded from her upon seeing him sober echoed down the corridor to be followed immediately by groans of pain while Snape laughed.

He held out a vial and she was just about to take it when he moved so that the vial was out of reach.

“Now, now,” said Snape, “I think it’s very noble of me to have made Hangover Potion on a Sunday morning and to have brought it all the way up from the dungeons to the Tower.”

“What do you want?” said McGonagall. She rolled her shoulders and promised herself that she wouldn’t draw her wand on her colleague.

“Just those three special words,” said Snape. He didn’t strictly enjoy that she was suffering but he would be wasting the opportunity if he didn’t acknowledge how good it was to hold something over her. In this case, a vial of Hangover Potion a foot higher than she could reach.

“Severus - “

“What’s going on?” said Pomona Sprout, appearing behind McGonagall, bundled up in a fluffy yellow dressing gown. “Hangover Potion!”

“Morning,” said Snape, shooting a glance at McGonagall as his shoulders shook with laughter. He glanced up at the ceiling, biting his tongue gently, then looked back at McGonagall and promptly snorted. McGonagall had gone a shade of red which complemented her tartan dressing gown beautifully. Snape patted the pocket of his robes. “I did bring extra.”

“Excellent,” said Sprout. “He’s so good to you, Minerva.”

“I’m still not talking to you,” said McGonagall, sniffing and refusing to look at Sprout.

“Well, hand over the Hangover Potion,” said Sprout.

“Ah, ah, ah,” said Snape, softly. “Not yet.” He met McGonagall’s gaze and grinned. “Just three little words, Minerva.” There was a small part of him which wondered if she might draw her wand on him, but with Sprout present, he thought his chances were good.

McGonagall’s eyes narrowed and her nose scrunched up. Her pursed lips twitched.

“Three little words,” repeated Snape, slowly.

“You were right,” said McGonagall.

**Yule 1989  
**

“Didn’t you think to read the label?” said Poppy, swatting at Snape. He took his feet off the bed and crossed his legs. The low lamplight of the hospital wing flickered around them.

“I made an educated guess,” Snape protested. “And anyway, Minerva said she could read Ancient Runes.”

“When she’s sober!” Poppy froze as McGonagall sighed in her sleep. Poppy didn’t even bother to use magic, instead nudging Snape’s shoulder. “You should have known better, young man.” She shook her head. “A special blend, indeed.”

They were already half-cut when he found an old bottle at the back of McGonagall’s drinks cabinet. The blend was so special that McGonagall had slumped over in her chair after one dram and refused to waken despite Snape’s spellwork, swearing, and none too gentle shoving. He ran to get Poppy and was sober before he returned with her.

He stayed in the hospital wing overnight and Poppy tapped his legs with her wand each time she came to check on McGonagall and found his feet back on the bed. 

Snape was slipping in and out of sleep and took a moment to realise he wasn’t dreaming the soft grip on his arm. He opened his eyes and saw McGonagall watching him with quiet concern. Her frown deepened when he looked away.

“Well,” said McGonagall. “It’s been a while since I had an experience like that.”

There were mumbled words from Snape which McGonagall knew could as likely be a heartfelt apology or an attempt to suggest it was entirely her fault. Either way, he wasn’t looking at her and his black hair fell forward so she couldn’t see his face. 

“I’m not angry,” said McGonagall. “I’m just not as young as I used to be.” She stroked his arm and he looked up, his gaze darting back and forth between her and his arm. She sighed then patted him where the Dark Mark lay beneath layers of fabric. “I think we should stick to Ogden’s next time.”

A hesitant smile played on his lips. Even after all these years, from time to time, she could see the nervous energy ricochet around him as panic threatened to take hold of the part of him which was never entirely relaxed, no matter how much Firewhisky was involved.

“Next time, I might even tell you about the night I got Albus drunk,” said McGonagall, with a nod and a sly smile.

“You got Dumbledore drunk?” whispered Snape, leaning closer, as though they might be overheard in the otherwise empty hospital wing.

McGonagall chucked. “Wonderfully so, my boy. Wonderfully so.” She squeezed his hand and smiled when she saw the spark of mischief back in his black eyes.


End file.
